Selected Sinners MC, book 2
Author: Scott Hildreth
Release Date: March 25, 2015
Excerpt
“The uhhm…covering my mouth thing…that was just freaking scary,” she breathed as she shook her head.
“Well, we can add it to the list of shit not to try in the future,” I said under my breath.
She rolled her eyes and lifted her head from her hand, “That’s for sure. Now that I tried it for you, can we like date? Like be official?”
I sat up on the bed and stared at her as if she had just slapped me. In some respects, I suppose she had.
“Say again?’ I snapped.
“You know, be official? Like exclusive?” she grinned.
I stared at her as if she was out of her mind, “Because you did this for me, you think we should be exclusive?”
“Uh huh,” she nodded.
I turned my head, rolled my eyes, and stood up. I guess I should have known, regardless of the size of her tits and the fat ass she was packing, she was no different than any of the others. Facing away from her, I pulled on my jeans and buckled my belt. Still having a difficult time believing she could be that forgetful over what we had discussed, I glanced over my shoulder in her direction.
I raised one eyebrow in true disbelief, “You’re fucking serious?”
She nodded her head eagerly.
“What part of I won’t be in a relationship didn’t you understand? I didn’t say I might. Or I’d consider it. Or if you do something for me you may convince me, did I? Fuck no, I didn’t. I said, and I quote, there is no chance we will ever be in a relationship. None. To which you responded, that’s okay. I asked if you were sure.
You said yes,” I shook my head as I scanned the floor for my boots.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she whined.
I shifted my gaze from the floor to where she sat, still naked on the bed, “You didn’t. I’m not mad, I’m just done. Get dressed, I’m taking you home.”
She scrunched her brow and stared, “What do you mean, done?”
“The done kind of done. You know, finished? Like over? The I’m taking your ridiculous ass home kind of done. Get dressed,” I snapped.
“Toad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” she blubbered.
“Sloan look, the last thing I need is some crazy bitch thinking I’m hers. If you’re hoping we’re going to be exclusive after the speech I gave you a few weeks ago, you’re already half way there. I’ll save you some confusion and me a hell of a lot of headaches. I’m done fucking you. And just so we’re crystal fucking clear, I’m done fucking you forever. Get dressed,” I said as I bent over and picked up my boots.
“Oh my God, like forever?” she screeched as she slid her legs over the edge of the bed.
“Roger that. Forever. The forever kind,” I nodded as I laced up my boots.
“Oh my God Toad, I didn’t mean it. I was just kidding,” she sniffled.
“Well, I’m not. Get dressed,” I said as I leaned over and picked up my knife.
While she cried and complained, she slowly found her clothes and got dressed. Disappointed somewhat at the fact I would no longer be able to explore my sexual desires with Sloan, I found a little humor in knowing more than likely one of the other Sinners would. I realized through my mental therapy at the Veteran’s Administration that a man’s feelings become real only when shared. It would stand to reason sharing my sexual escapades with the fellas would make my feelings of satisfaction from fucking her for three weeks even more profound.
After hearing details of all of my sexual adventures with Sloan, one of the fellas would surely want to give her a try. Which one it might be would be anyone’s guess. Most of the men should be a little more forgiving than I was, and she may even find one who’d put up with her juvenile behavior.
As I held the front door for her, she sniveled as she walked past. My patience for her behaving like a sixteen year old high school girl was wearing thin. After standing on the porch and watching her blubber as she stumbled toward the bike, I guess what little sympathy I had for her must have vanished.
“I’m sure one of the other fellas will throw you a little cock,” I shrugged as I raised my leg over the seat.
Through the sniffles and sobs, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and gazed my direction. After wiping the final tear from her face, her mouth curled into a half-assed smile.
“You really think so?” she asked in a broken voice.
“Hop on, I’ll haul you over to Corn Dog’s house right now. The Dog will fuck anything that’ll hold still long enough for him to finish,” I responded sarcastically.
“I’d really appreciate it,” she sighed as she climbed over the rear fender and onto the seat.
Holy shit, bitch. Have a little self-worth.
I reached for the hand controls and started the bike. As the sound of the engine echoed against the garage door and through the neighborhood, I stared along the driveway and realized my thoughts of women and their inability to be sexually adventurous, loyal, and sane were accurate.
There was no such thing.
About the Author
Scott Hildreth is a very analytical sort who bases his beliefs on statistics he compiles in his head. Often going as long as a month without so much as a single sip of water, he drinks coffee as if it were the lifeblood of his writing.
Scott fears flying, clowns, and amusement park rides. Tall and lean with a cleanly shaven head and covered in tattoos, he doesn’t blend in well. After reading his writings, this makes perfect sense. His vibrant characters, backstories, and plots, although always relatable, generally stand out as much as he does.
Willing to discuss matters at length most people shy away from, Scott’s writing has revolved around such subjects as domestic abuse, suicide, alcoholism, drug abuse, cancer, divorce, homosexuality, religion, and lack thereof.
Born in San Diego, California, Scott now calls Wichita, Kansas his home. He is a proud father, and lives devoted to the love of his life, Jessica. When he isn’t writing, he may be found on his motorcycle or in a local coffee house.
Scott's novels include Broken People, Undefeated, Unstoppable, Unleashed, Unbroken, Baby Girl - Ruined, Baby Girl - Owned, Baby Girl - Loved, To the Depths of Hell, The Alpha-Bet, Finding Parker, Karter, and Confessions of a Smut Author.
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